


of coffee and ghibli movies

by forbala



Series: Jewish Stiles [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blind Date, Bondage, Bookstore Owner Derek Hale, Bottom Derek Hale, Derek has a dog because fight me, Dom Stiles Stilinski, Domestic, Face-Fucking, Future Fic, Gags, Happy Ending, Jewish Character, Jewish Stiles Stilinski, Law Student Stiles Stilinski, Light Dom/sub, Loving Sex, M/M, Marathon Sex, Minor Original Character(s), Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Alternating, Rimming, Spanking, Sub Derek Hale, Top Stiles Stilinski, uhaul boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-19 13:33:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16535522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forbala/pseuds/forbala
Summary: The pack have all lost touch, gone their separate ways. Stiles goes to a blind date and gets a huge surprise.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for a really long time lol. I'm totally in love with this story, it's one of my favorite things I've written. I'm still not totally satisfied with it but I doubt I ever will be. Better to go ahead and post it, right?
> 
> Thanks to my amazing friend DM for the beta.
> 
> Based on [this](https://homemadesterekpie.tumblr.com/post/170781180683/) post.

In the end, it all came back to coffee.

~

After high school, the pack had split up. They went to college, as did many of their classmates—Scott went to University of Alabama, Erica and Boyd both went to Boston University, Allison and Kira to Northwestern because they’re borderline geniuses, and Isaac to UCLA. Lydia, of course, got a full ride to MIT and Stiles went to Stanford, also on a full ride. Even coming home for breaks, they didn’t keep up with each other well. Outside of the supernatural, they didn’t have much it common, it turned out. Derek left Beacon Hills again sometime in their sophomore year, traveling to who-knew-where and telling no one until he’d gone.

Scott, especially, had practically fallen off the face of the Earth. He only talked to Stiles occasionally, and less and less each passing year. Stiles tried not to be upset by it, he knew that people tended to drift apart, especially at this age, plus he and Scott had been drifting apart for a long time (it started with the bite and only got worse from there). But knowing all this didn’t stop it from hurting.

Anyway, by the time he had a Bachelor’s degree, he really only talked to Lydia with any kind of regularity. Everyone else was just a strange memory.

~

Stiles is a 2L now, grinding through law school at Columbia University. He loves New York; it’s the exact opposite of Beacon Hills: urban, anonymous, and the dangers are all human and mundane. 

Most of his time is spent reading case briefs, though, and suffering.

And so, so much coffee. It’s probably a human rights crime, the amount of coffee Stiles funnels into his body. He’s studying human rights law and he hasn’t come across a coffee ingestion law yet, but he’s sure it’s out there.

It’s one night when he and his friend Kayin have a paper due the next morning (or—in 6 hours, oh fuck), when they’re sitting in Stiles’ apartment and typing frantically and trying desperately to stave off melting into the couch, when Kayin first mentions her part-time job.

“Dude, how much would I love to go to work right now?” she says, sinking deeper into the couch, her laptop sliding up her belly.

“You’ve officially been awake too long,” Stiles says. “You want to go to work? No, go to bed, I’m taking executive action.”

“No, fuck off, seriously.” She tries to sit up, her box braids sliding over her shoulder, and levels Stiles with a look. “The little bookstore I work at, there’s a coffee shop inside. I mean, coffee shop is generous, but he has like the most top of the line coffee and espresso machines and the best ever coffee and he sells it dirt cheap. Employees get one free coffee every day we work.”

“Fuck you, don’t lie to me. That’s too good to be true, so it’s not.”

“Asshole. I don’t lie about coffee. I just really want that espresso machine. Right now. In my arms.”

When Stiles looks over a minute later, she’s snoring. He saves her paper ,closes her laptop, and lets her sleep for an hour.

~

“I barely scraped by with a B on that test, fuck me,” Stiles announces, loudly, to the entire hallway. His roommate, Eden, is on his left and Kayin on his right, then her roommate Usagi beside her.

Usagi grumbles, “Oh, a B he complains about. A measly B! My class rank definitely fell after that shit.”

“No measly B here,” brags Kayin. They all turn to her with glances full of loathing and envy as she declares, “I got an A and I actually didn’t fry my brain in the process.”

“You bitch,” Stiles says, with barely any heat.

“Excuse me, share your secrets,” Eden prompts, ducking around Stiles to wrap an arm around their fortunate friend.

“Y’all, honestly, my job is the best place to study. It’s super quiet, the customers are really laid-back, plus the coffee is magical and I will swear to that under oath. It’s just really easy to focus there. I even go there sometimes when I’m not working.”

“Wait, so your boss is cool with you studying at work?” Usagi asks, skepticism writ all over her face.

Kayin nods. “He just, like, wears sweaters and reads books and drinks insane amounts of tea. He’s a total English lit nerd stereotype, but not the asshole variety, the soft and adorkable variety.”

“Damn,” says Eden, a lesbian, “need me a man like that.”

~

Derek is closing the shop for the night. It’s eight o’clock, not late by New York City standards, not even close, but it’s plenty for him. He pulls down the grate in front, goes inside and locks the front door, flips the sign from welcome to come back tomorrow. He flips off the front set of lights—they’re soft, yellow, not the harsh fluorescent lights that hurt his eyes—and moves through to the checkout counter in the back, flipping off the back set of lights as he goes. Now there’s only the low reserve lights to see by, but it’s more than enough for him.

As soon as all the lights go out, his Irish Setter jumps from her bed on the floor and starts jumping at him. She’s smart, she knows the routine, and she knows it’s time to go home. “Sit, Meg,” he says, pushing her front paws off his thighs. She follows the command instantly and he leashes her. Exiting out the back, locking the steel door there, they head the two blocks up to his apartment. She stops in the grass twice on the way, and then they head up in the elevator.

Inside, he lets Meg off her leash again and she bounds through the apartment, running into each room, checking to make sure everything is as she left it. Derek smiles fondly at her neurosis, and he feels at ease. He fills her food and water bowls while she finishes her inspection, then starts on his own dinner. While he cooks, Meg runs laps, jumps on the couch, jumps off the couch, chases a tennis ball, gnaws on a different tennis ball, and circles his legs in the kitchen. Her favorite place to be is wedged in the few inches of space between his legs and the cabinet where he’s working, chopping vegetables. Whether she wants to be close to him or wants to catch anything he drops, he doesn’t know, but he thinks it might be both.

Dinner cooks quickly—beef and vegetable stir fry—and he drops some pieces into Meg’s bowl, plain cooked beef and raw carrots. She inhales them and sits at his feet at the table while he eats, watching him with keen eyes. Finally, when he’s finished eating, he cleans up the kitchen, and they go into the living room to play. She brings him no less than six different toys to play tug. They jump and fight, and he even shifts his face. It doesn’t bother her, not anymore; she barks playfully every time he shifts now.

Later, he lies in bed with Meg snoozing on the floor beside him in her own bed, and he thinks that he’d forgotten what peace felt like.

~

Derek rises early. Wearing basketball shorts and an old t-shirt, he takes Meg downstairs so she can use the bathroom, then back upstairs. He feeds her and eats his own breakfast, an egg and cheese sandwich and green tea. With Meg leashed, they head downstairs again and head over to Morningside Park for a sunrise run. Their path is about a mile and a half and they set a hard pace, and by the time they finish their second lap, Meg is panting and Derek is breathing heavy too. They stop for water, Derek from a bottle and Meg from a collapsible silicone bowl Derek pulls from his fanny pack, before going back to the apartment.

In the hallway, they see Bella, a middle-aged woman with dark brown skin, one of Derek’s neighbours, and a witch. “Morning, Bella,” he says.

She walks over and bends to pet Meg. “Good morning,” she says—more to Meg than to him, really. “How are my favorite canines today? Did you have a good run?”

“Yeah, it’s nice out. It’s humid today, though.”

“Hm, good to know,” she mutters. After several long moments petting Meg (which Meg loves, of course), she stands again and actually looks at Derek, this time. “Oh! Derek, give me your palm. I sense something coming.”

“Oh, I don’t know—” he tries, but she gives him a stern look and he relents, giving her his hand. 

“Hah! Look at that!” she crows, tracing her index finger over his palm. “Mm-hm, just as I suspected. I give it two weeks.” She pats his palm and releases him, starts to turn away until Derek stops her.

“Uh, what about two weeks? Is something dangerous coming?” He can’t deny he’s anxious. It’s a learned reaction, one that’s kept him alive all these years.

Bella scoffs, them hums thoughtfully. “Not dangerous, as such. I think it’s very good for you, actually. How should I say it? Something old, something new… Not like before. Better.” She turns away again and recedes into her apartment, leaving Derek puzzled.

~

Stiles is dying. Actually dying. He’s lying on the floor in the law library, halfway under the table. Midterms in undergrad were the devil. Finals in undergrad were the like fifth circle of Hell. Law school, at any time, is deeper than that. Like, the twelfth circle. If the ninth circle is a frozen wasteland with Satan eating people, the twelfth circle would be Satan’s sweaty asshole. And that’s where Stiles is now, wedged right in.

Eden looks down at him from her seat at the table. Entirely nonplussed, she asks, “You gonna make it, Stiles?”

“No, Eden, can’t you see I’ve died? Rude, honestly.”

Usagi pokes her boot into his shoulder. “Hey, if you’re dead, can I have your coffee?”

“No. Pour it on my corpse.”

“Stingy brat.”

“Yup.”

~

Derek looks up at the tinkle of the bell at the front door. Kayin walks in, her backpack on and a ceramic travel mug in hand. She doesn’t even clock in, just goes straight for the coffee machine. She passes on the espresso, though, so that’s a good sign.

After she’s gone to the back and clocked in, she opens her laptop on the cashier bar. “Morning, boss,” she says, not looking at him.

“Morning, Kayin,” he says, a little sardonically. “How’s Passariello’s class going?”

“Ugh,” she grunts. They chat all morning while Derek stocks the shelves, or while Kayin cleans the front windows, or between customers. Derek checks out a stack of poetry books for a kid who can’t be more than twelve. Kayin reads case briefs. It’s easy and calm, which is all Derek wants these days. No excitement is fantastic for him.

He was lucky to meet Kayin. She’s a law student but they met at the children’s literacy program where they both volunteer. He needed a part time employee and she needed an easy job; it was perfect. She’s a good employee and good company, doesn’t expect too much from him. She teases him some but mostly they both do their own thing and just exist peacefully near each other. It’s nice.

It’s one Tuesday when Kayin’s working and she maybe hasn’t been sleeping, or maybe she actually got a full night’s sleep by some miracle, but either way she’s in a feisty mood. It’s a slow day, too, so she spends it teasing him mercilessly.

“You look like my grandad in that sweater,” she says of his thick knit cardigan. It has large wooden buttons and it’s one of his favorites. He got it from an estate sale so Kayin’s right about it, honestly, but Derek doesn’t mind.

“Surprise,” he says, “I actually am your grandad. Would you like some hard candy?”

She nearly busts a blood vessel laughing at that.

Later, Derek has lunch delivered for them both and they eat Vietnamese food at one of the sitting areas up front. Kayin is explaining a movie to him and how it’s actually very deep, thank you.

“Have you ever even seen any movies released after 2004?” she asks him.

He shrugs. “I don’t really like going out.”

“That’s what Netflix is for, my dude. The whole internet is available to you.”

He shrugs again.

“Jeez, what do you even do when you’re not here or volunteering?”

Another shrug.

“Fuck, Derek, do you have any friends? Do you go on dates?”

“No. I go on runs with Meg.”

She groans dramatically. “I’m going to help you, man. You need to talk to people other than me. I’m gonna get you date.”

“Please don’t,” Derek says, voice and face flat. She just chuckles at him and keeps eating.

~ 

She spends the whole week pestering him about his preferences. He holds her off until Thursday but finally tells her he’ll only date men. He doesn’t give her the full truth, which is that he’s bisexual but traumatized to where even the thought of a woman being near him or touching him like that is enough to make him shake. The past still has quite a grip on him.

“Fuck yes!” she crows successfully. “I’ve got the perfect guy for you. Tomorrow at eight, I’ll make a reservation.”

He mumbles, “I’m going to regret this,” and turns away. 

~

“Fuck, Lydia, why am I doing this again?” Stiles asks as he pulls on a shirt, does up the buttons, and stands in front of his computer camera.

“Because you love your friend and you love dick,” she replies. She’s in a study room, filling up a whiteboard with math way beyond Stiles’ understanding. “Take that shirt off.”

He does, and grabs the next in line, green with blue and red stripes. “I mean yeah, but Kayin’s _boss_? That’s fuckin’ weird, right?”

“Whatever. Maybe he’ll be your sugar daddy.”

“That’s the motherfucking dream.”

“Why do you put on these shirts I hate?” Lydia demands, “Red, Stiles!”

“I do look good in more than just red, you know!”

“Shut up and do what I say.”

He shuts up and pulls on his red shirt, crimson and satiny. Lydia pronounces it perfect and they move on to hair.

~ 

Derek closes the bookshop early and he walks into the restaurant at seven forty-five—he’s already cased the outside area and he wants to check around inside too. History is a cruel teacher, after all. It’s a pleasant little family-owned Russian restaurant, a little run down but homey. It smells like beets and cabbage and onions and beef. He speaks with the host, a teenaged boy with just a little hair on his lip and chin, who seats him towards the back of the restaurant, and Derek sits facing the door and his back to the wall. He’s as relaxed as he can be in this situation, he thinks, his muscles only slightly tensed. 

That changes when, at eight oh two, the front door opens and the bell nearly jumps off it’s mount with the way it shakes. Derek feels the breath leave him and every muscle coil. He doesn’t need to fight, probably, but he doesn’t know how to handle this.

Standing at the host stand, dressed in fitted dark jeans and a red button up shirt, is Stiles. His hair is coiffed and he looks like a runway model. He’s filled out since Derek last saw him (three years ago? Four?) but the biggest difference is that he looks at ease now where he never did before. When Derek knew him in Beacon Hills, he went from twitchy and awkward to skittish and angry; he’d started to settle a little after going to college, but it was incremental. He looks grown now, adult and capable.

Derek stands but his legs are like jelly and he has to grip the chair for support. Stiles looks over and sees him and curses. He stalks over—lithe and determined, like a predator—passing the young host and stopping at the table. “Are you my blind date?” he demands, hand slamming down on the wood. Derek nods wordlessly. Stiles laughs, and it’s genuine, no trace of the anger or bitterness Derek might’ve expected. “Holy shit, dude, c’mere.” He reaches for Derek and pulls him gently in for a hug. It takes a moment for Derek to catch up, but he puts his arms around Stiles’ back and holds him, inhales his scent, strange and new on the surface but familiar underneath.

They pull away and sit and Stiles orders a bottle of wine for them. “What are you doing here, huh?” he asks, his voice gentle and eyes soft but glittering with interest.

“I run a bookshop.”

“Bookshop? That’s cool. Wait—are you Kayin’s boss?” When Derek nods mutely, Stiles laughs again, and Derek can feel his mind and body start to thaw.

“Oh shit, you’re the precious boy who drinks tea and wears big sweaters. Fuck, Derek, this is amazing.” When he finally stops laughing, he smiles and says, “But really, I’m glad to see you. How’d you get here?”

“A plane. Two, actually.”

That makes Stiles laugh again and Derek smiles too. This is nice. This is unexpected but it’s so, so nice. Derek feels his muscles loosen, his heart slows down, and something shifts inside him. When the server comes by to deliver their wine, Stiles makes Derek drink first and give his approval, then he orders borscht just to watch Derek’s face scrunch at the smell when it’s delivered. Stiles seems familiar with Russian foods, though, and orders several dishes for them to share.

“My mom was Polish so going to my grandparents’ house, they always had Polish food. It’s not the same but there is some overlap. None of this is kosher, though, so that’s the biggest difference,” he adds with a chuckle.

Derek does a double take. “Wait, kosher?”

“Yeah, dude, I’m Jewish. Didn’t you know?”

“No.”

“Yep, cute Jewish boy, at your service.”

Derek snorts and finishes his glass of wine. 

~ 

Stiles: _Update: my blind date is Derek Hale and we’re going back to his place_

Lydia: _Fuck off, seriously?? Suck his soul out his dick_

Stiles: _Planning on it ;)_

~

Stiles couldn’t believe his eyes when he walked into the restaurant, but now he can’t believe his luck. To see Derek again after all these years is a gift, and to be on a date with him is a miracle. He never really got over his crush on Derek, although he had let it die down to a barely-there simmer after Derek had disappeared. But seeing him again now, that simmer turned into a full boil instantly. 

They stay at their table for a long time, get another bottle of wine and a dessert to share, and only leave when the staff start to clean up. As they stand outside on the sidewalk, the sky dark above them and the city lights beaming, Stiles isn’t sure what to do next. Is this still a date? Or is it two old friends catching up? Stiles does not want this to be friends, and he doesn’t want it to end, either. But he doesn’t want to make Derek uncomfortable and lose him all over again. 

Fortunately, Derek takes the initiative, saying, “We could go somewhere else, if you want. Or…”

Stiles smiles. “Or?”

Derek’s blush is the most amazing thing Stiles has seen in his entire life. “Or...we could go back to my place.”

Taking his hand, Stiles leans in close and says, “Or sounds pretty nice.”

~

Derek’s apartment is nice. Stiles is kind of stunned, honestly, because it actually looks like a place a person lives. The first thing he notices is the large open area filled with bookshelves, a dining table, and a kitchen on the left.

The second thing he notices is only because it notices him. A dog comes running in and jumps up on Stiles’ thighs. She’s a beautiful red and sporting a happy, doggy smile. Stiles scratches her ears immediately and leans his face in for kisses. 

Derek laughs beside him and says, “Meg, sit.” She does so immediately and Stiles supposes being a once-Alpha werewolf helps in dog training.

“Meg is a cute name,” he says, toeing out of his shoes and putting his jacket on a hook by the door. “Megan?”

“No, uh, Nutmeg, actually.” He’s blushing again and Stiles feels his chest clench and his heart soar away. 

“Fuck you, that’s adorable.”

Derek kneels down to pet on Meg and she half-climbs him, her tail wagging so hard it moves her entire back half. Stiles laughs and sits down beside them, stealing Meg away. She seems happy to be stolen and licks up Stiles’ neck and bites his ear. He laughs and pushes her gently. “Meg, dude, that’s gross!” 

Derek chuckles and stands. “Dogs have no manners.”

“And wolves do?” Stiles arches his eyebrow and stands too, keeping a hand stretched down to scratch at Meg’s head. 

A funny look goes over Derek’s face—intent, dark, and lustful. Stiles recognizes the expression well but is floored to see it on Derek of all people. It makes a shock run through him. 

They look at each other for a long moment, intentions clear but neither of them moving yet. Until Derek shakes himself and grabs for a leash hanging on the wall. “Better take her out,” he says, voice thready. Meg turns a few excited circles before she sits to be leashed. “I’ll be back in a minute. Make yourself comfortable—uh, I mean. Um.” He leaves before he can put his foot any further in his mouth and Stiles smiles faintly.

Comfortable, then. Stiles can do that.

He takes himself on a tour and boy is that a bad idea. Derek’s apartment is cute, cozy, lived in like the loft (or the abandoned train depot or the burnt shell of his childhood home) could never be. It looks like an actual home.

Stiles walks around the walls of the living room, looking at the packed-full bookshelves and the dog toys littering the floor. There’s a TV in the corner but Stiles doubts Derek uses it much. The couch is well-worn and comfortable and he can see dog hair in the cushion fibers and it makes him smile.

He probably only has a couple minutes left before Derek comes back, so he moves past the kitchen and down that hallway, finds the bathroom and uses it. He quickly brushes his teeth with Derek’s toothpaste and his finger, touches up his hair, puts a little vaseline on his lips. He looks himself over for a moment, then rolls up the sleeves of his button up, showing off his forearms. Yeah, that’s good. He goes back into the hall and Meg runs headlong into his legs and looks up at him joyfully.

“Hey, there,” he chuckles, looking up to see Derek. He hangs the leash up, takes off his shoes, and walks to Stiles.

“Hey.” His voice is quiet. Stiles reaches out and takes his hand. “You used my toothpaste.”

Stiles nods. “Yeah.”

Derek smiles, just a little. He looks so happy that it almost breaks Stiles’ heart. Stiles leans in and Derek meets him halfway in a kiss that’s tender and sweet and it feels like Stiles finally knows where he belongs.

When they pull apart, it’s just barely, and Derek breathes out a shaky, “Please stay.”

“You couldn’t pay me to leave.”

The next kiss is hungry and they push as close together as they can, pushing out the dog from between their legs. They hear her huff and her claws tap-tap against the floor as she trots away. Stiles moves his free hand up to grasp at the back of Derek’s neck, tilts his head, deepens the kiss. Derek bites his lip and wraps his arm around Stiles’ back, pulling them flush, and it’s still not close enough.

Stiles pulls back a little; Derek chases him but Stiles turns his head. Voice hoarse already, he says, “Please tell me we’re gonna have sex, because that is absolutely something I want to do tonight.”

“Fuck yes, Stiles,” Derek groans, biting his jaw and squeezing his waist. “C’mon, bedroom.”

~

The bedroom is nice; clean and uncluttered, but not nearly so barren as the loft had been. There’s a dog bed on the floor that trips Stiles as he stumbles backwards to the bed and falls onto the quilt. He immediately wraps his legs around Derek’s waist and pulls him down too, puts his hands in his hair and tugs gently. “What do you want to do, Derek?” he pants out.

Derek shivers in his arms. “Whatever you want.”

Stiles scrambles back a little and sits up to look at him. “Hey, no. I'm serious. I know about—y’know, _that_. Your history. I want you to pick, okay? It’s all about you, Derek. Whatever _you_ want.”

Derek’s eyes widen in surprise and then he laughs to himself. “Should’ve known you’d be bossy. Okay then.” He reaches in for Stiles’ belt and unlatches it, opens the jeans, pulls everything down in one quick tug; a second tug gets them off Stiles legs and dropped on the floor. Stiles groans and lies back down again. 

Derek slides his hands up Stiles’ thighs, pale and covered in fine hair, leans in to kiss him again. “Take your shirt off. I wanna blow you.”

“Fuck. Yes, yeah.” He sits up and pulls at the buttons of his shirt, sloppy, but he gets it done and pushes it away from him. The floor, elsewhere on the bed, he's not sure where it ends up and he doesn't care. With Stiles naked, they're kissing again, frantic almost, Stiles running his hands over Derek's clothed back.

Derek pulls away and kisses at Stiles’ neck, leaving mark after mark. Stiles rolls up into each one, desperate for more. Derek moves down his chest, biting at his collarbone, down and all around one toned pectoral, pinching one nipple and biting the other, pulling with his teeth. Stiles moans and grunts, chanting, “yes, yes, fuck yeah,” over and over again. Moving lower, Derek bites every rib and both hips, kisses all over his abdomen, and Stiles is writing.

“You're so hot, dammit,” Derek grunts. He moves down to kneel on the floor and pushes Stiles’ legs further apart.

“Wait,” Stiles says, putting a stopping hand on Derek's forehead. “You can't get an STI, right? Can you transmit?”

“No, I'm completely immune. No carrying.”

“Awesome,” Stiles groans and brushes his fingers through soft, dark hair.

Derek licks and bites his way up one thigh, sucking marks every few inches, rubbing the other gently with his hand. Red and purple bites bloom on Stiles’ fair skin to match his chest, and Derek looks completely thrilled. He switches to bite the other thigh, grabs Stiles’ cock with one hand and starts stroking him, grip loose and feather-light.

Stiles whimpers weakly, tries to keep his hips still, tries to let Derek take his time, but it's Herculean. He has been fantasizing for years about this, and now he's got it he's not sure he'll survive. He bites his lip, fists one hand in the blanket beneath him and the other combs through Derek’s hair, breathes as deeply as he can, but it doesn't help. Finally, he gasps out, “Derek, please.”

Apparently, Derek can be very giving when asked. He immediately licks up Stiles’ cock and kisses the head, then suckles it, licking the slit before letting go. He mouths his way down the shaft, down to Stiles’ balls, kisses there too, gentle and sweet. He sucks each testicle into his mouth, one at a time, then goes back to his cock and sucks it down, fast and wet. Stiles gasps and whines.

 _This is how I die_ , he thinks, fighting to hold on a little longer. _Worth it_.

Derek gets a few more strokes and sucks in before Stiles is yelling and shaking. “Fuck, gonna come, Derek, gonna—fuck!” Both hands grab desperately at the sheets, Derek pushes down all the way so Stiles’ cock goes in his throat, and that’s how he comes. Derek sucks him through it, pulling back to suckle softly on the head until Stiles is whining from overstimulation. He pulls off and lays his forehead down on Stiles’ hip. 

Panting, Stiles says, “C’mere, come up here, kiss me.” Derek sluggishly obeys and they kiss, deep and slow. “You wanna come now?”

Derek shakes his head. “No, wanna...want you to make me wait.”

“Mmm, fuck yeah. You wanna earn it, baby?” Stiles asks, catching on immediately. Derek nods. Stiles flips them and asks, “When you come, how do you want to do it? You wanna fuck me? Or should I blow you?”

“You fuck me,” Derek breathes, soft and quiet like wind in the trees.

Chastely kissing one nipple, Stiles looks up and says, “Yeah, you got it. Go clean up for me, okay.”

Derek nods and they kiss again before he goes to the bathroom for several minutes. Stiles finds lube in the nightstand and smirks. It’s half empty, and Stiles wonders if he fucks himself when he’s alone.

Before Stiles gets too riled up on that, Derek returns and sinks into the bed with Stiles again. They kiss, deep, slow, dirty. “Lay down for me, babe. I wanna eat you out, is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Derek says, still breathy and soft. Fucking fuck, Stiles is so head over heels for this man.

Derek kneels with his face in the pillow and his ass up high. Stiles starts by putting his hands on Derek’s hairy ass, licking the back of his balls, up his taint. He traces his tongue around the rim over and over, feeling it flutter and Derek’s muscles tense up. Several minutes go by like this before Derek relaxes, little by little, and Stiles finally pushes inside. He points his tongue and reaches as deep as he can, tasting soap and lube, pulls back to circle just inside. He fucks Derek slow like that, rubbing his ass cheeks, squeezing them. Derek is whining and twitching and shaking, pushing back into Stiles’ face. Stiles is in heaven.

After some time, he pulls away and soaks in the pathetic whimper Derek lets out. He covers his fingers in lube and sticks his tongue back in Derek’s ass, pushing against the outside of the rim with one fingertip. Derek gasps, wet and broken. Stiles pushes inside. 

“Derek, you’re so beautiful, baby, how the fuck are you so pretty?” Stiles asks, fucking that one finger in and out. He kisses the base of Derek’s spine, pulls his finger out, pushes two in. It’s a little tight, still, so Stiles pushes his fingers inside and rotates his wrist but doesn’t scissor, not yet, not until Derek loosens up some more. 

He works his way up to scissoring Derek’s hole and using three fingers, talking to him the whole time, calling Derek “pretty” and “beautiful” and “sweet” and “perfect.” He says, “There’s no one in the whole world as good as you, Derek,” and hears a hiccup. Derek is definitely crying. “You okay, Derek? Is this okay, baby, want me to stop?”

“No,” he cries. “No, don’t stop, please.”

“Okay, baby, anything you want.”

Finally, Derek is loose and a little sloppy and Stiles pulls his hand free. “You wanna lay on your back, baby, or want me to fuck you like this?”

Derek doesn’t say anything, just flips over onto his back and flops his legs open wide. “Please, Stiles,” he whispers. Stiles moves in close and kisses Derek as he guides himself in. Derek wraps his arms around Stiles’ back and holds him tight as he slides inside, further and further, until he’s fully seated.

“Fuck, _fuck_ , you feel so good,” Stiles groans, sitting still as Derek adjusts.

But Derek is whining and wiggling his hips in moments, barely any time having passed. “Stiles, fuck me, please, _please_ , nnn—”

Stiles does. He pulls out slow, fucks back inside quick and hard. Derek shouts—surprise or pleasure or both. Stiles fucks him again and again, hitting his prostate every second or third thrust. Derek is crying, just a little, moaning and clutching at Stiles’ biceps. 

“So good, so fuckin’ good,” Stiles chants. “Baby, I’m so close. Are you ready? You wanna come now?”

Derek might be nodding but he’s so shaky and out of it, Stiles can’t be sure. “Tell me,” he demands. “Yes or no, do you wanna come?”

“Y—yes, ye-yeah, yes, please Stiles, yes!” he shouts, broken. 

Stiles grabs his cock and it’s over in seconds. 

~

When Stiles wakes up, it’s to the shine of the nighttime city lights outside a wide bay window. Now that he’s a little less preoccupied, he can get a decent look around the room. Derek lives just off a main road, so it’s not too bright or loud, which is nice; the city fades into the background for the most part. He looks over at Derek, sleeping peacefully on his side, half-curled. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. 

Stiles sits up and stretches his arms and back, gets out of the bed, and carefully steps over Meg on his way to the bathroom. The bathroom light is bright, but Derek only uses soft yellow bulbs so it’s not too bad. When he catches sight of himself in the mirror, his neck, shoulders, and chest are marked up with hickeys like brands, all the way down his torso. He suspects his back is scratched all to hell, too. Awesome. 

~

When he gets back into bed, he scoots in close to Derek, slithers inside the curl of his arms and legs to slot himself in as close as possible. Derek stirs a little, not fully awake but enough to move how Stiles directs him. Once comfortable, Stiles hums contentedly and kisses Derek’s nose.

“G’night, Der-bear,” he says, barely more than a breath.

“Night, Stiles,” he breathes back.

~

They get up in the morning for Meg, who licks Stiles’ face at promptly six a.m., her entire rear half wagging again. “Gah, gross, fuck,” Stiles grumbles, swiping at his face and trying but failing to push her away. Derek gets up quickly and pulls on some gym clothes.

“Come on, girl, leave him alone,” he says, voice soft but firm, and they vanish. Stiles wants to go back to sleep, but he knows he won’t be able to now, so he gets up and goes to the dresser, digging around until he finds a pair of flannel pants. He washes his face and brushes his teeth then goes to the kitchen, where he opens the fridge and approximately every cabinet and drawer, just to see what’s available. By the time Derek and Meg return, Stiles has the electric kettle going for tea and he’s got eggs and cheese and toast sitting out on the counter. 

“Oh, you’re making breakfast? Who knew you were so domestic?” Derek teases. He goes to the sink and gets fresh water for Meg’s bowl, then comes up and hugs Stiles from behind. “And you stole my pants, huh? Awfully presumptuous of you.”

Stiles wiggles his hips teasingly. “Hm, I think I’ll be fine. You want eggs in a basket?”

Derek nods against his shoulder and kisses up his neck while Stiles cooks. “What kind of tea do you want? I have almost everything.”

“Do you have coffee?”

“No, sorry.”

“Then I’ll have Irish breakfast tea or something like it. Caffeine right into my bloodstream, buddy.”

Derek moves away with a chuckle, leaving Stiles’ back cold, and pulls open a drawer full to bursting with tea bags. He grabs three bags and two mugs. “Two tea bags for you. More caffeine,” he says with a chuckle as he pours the hot water. Stiles plates the eggs in their baskets and joins Derek at the table. Two tea bags for more caffeine; he is in love.

After, as Derek puts away the dishes, he says, “Do you want to go on a run with me and Meg? We usually do three miles but I’m feeling lazy today.”

“Y’know, I could go for a run,” Stiles says, smirking. He comes up beside Derek and kisses his stubbly cheek, pinches his hip. The noise Derek makes then is almost like a purr, rumbling in his chest, and Stiles would do anything to hear more of it.

~

Derek stretches his legs as Stiles opens the apartment door. They had a good run, shorter than his usual but Meg seems pleased regardless and Derek and Stiles both worked up a sweat. It feels good, running with pack again, even if it’s just a measured pace during daylight hours and with no howling or chasing or wrestling. If Derek isn’t very careful, he’ll get used to this too fast and get his heart broken.

But then Stiles looks back at him with this look in his eyes and his scent is effervescent and he thinks he might be okay.

Derek unleashes Meg and she goes right away to her water bowl, but Derek is interrupted before he can close the door. Bella comes out into the hall, sees him and Stiles standing at the threshold, and she grins.

“Good morning, Derek. Who is this?” she asks.

“Oh, hi. This is Stiles, um. From my hometown.” He tries not to fidget but fails. She nods and shakes Stiles’ hand.

She tells him, “You’re cuter than I thought you’d be. And you’re early. I gave him two weeks and you just passed one!”

“Uh, thanks,” Stiles says, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head to the side. Then, suddenly, he jolts as if shocked. “Ouch, hey! You could’ve just said you’re a witch, jeez.” He pushes his hand into Derek’s and squeezes for comfort.

“Oh, shit. You’re both going to cause me a lot of trouble, aren’t you?” Derek sighs. 

Bella laughs and walks away.

Inside again, Stiles says, “What did she mean, two weeks?”

“Ugh, she told me last week that something was coming, old and new or something like that. I guess she meant you.”

“Oh, really, huh? What else did she say?” Stiles asks, pulling Derek to the bathroom and peeling off his sweaty shirt and then Derek’s. 

“Hm. That you’d be good for me, but she can’t be right all the time.”

“Ha!” They strip quickly and step into the shower, hands and mouths seeking skin, all over, seeking anything and everything. 

Derek pushes Stiles to turn him around and kisses the back of his neck, bites one shoulder hard, and rolls his hips, half-hard cock between Stiles’ cheeks.

“Whoaaa, fuck. Yeah, baby, that’s it,” Stiles moans. He puts one hand over Derek’s where it squeezes his hip, reaches the other back to tangle his fingers in Derek’s hair. “More, baby, do it.”

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek pants in his ear, heavy, hot, thrusting faster between Stiles’ ass. It’s only another minute before he comes over Stiles lower back and round ass.

Stiles talks him through it, murmuring sweet endearments. Once he’s done, Stiles turns around again to face him and kisses him slowly. “Feel better, baby?” he asks.

Derek nods, puts his head in the crook of Stiles’ shoulder, wraps his arms around Stiles’ waist. “I love you,” he says, quiet and soft. 

A thrill runs through Stiles, then, and he wraps Derek up in his arms. “I love you too, Derek. I have for years.”

“Please...stay a little longer.” His face is still hidden. Stiles rubs a hand up and down his back.

“Derek, buddy, I mean this totally seriously. You are gonna have to kick me out. I’m not leaving until you say so.”

Derek looks up and smiles, and it’s so warm and sweet and heartbreaking, Stiles actually whimpers. 

~

They lay around in bed the rest of the morning, watching videos on Stiles’ phone or Derek reading poetry (and Stiles cannot believe that’s a real thing that’s happening) or Stiles talking about school. Derek eats Stiles out and then they order pizza for lunch. Derek answers the door in only a robe, loose around his chest, and from his seat on the floor playing with Meg, Stiles can see the delivery girl checking him out, completely blatant. It makes Stiles grin cheekily.

They eat on the couch while Meg runs laps around them and occasionally tries a sneak attack to grab a slice. Stiles bullies Derek into pulling up Netflix and they watch Disney’s Atlantis, because Derek’s never seen it and Stiles has to correct that. Once the credits roll, they curl up on top of each other and make out for a while, with Meg on the other end of the couch .

“Derek,” Stiles asks later, laying mostly on top of him and running fingers through his hair. “Have you dated anyone since moving out here?”

Derek has been dancing his fingers over Stiles’ back and he squeezes his sides before answering. “Not really. I didn’t want to date women and Grindr was...horrible. I went on a few dates and had a few hookups but nothing that lasted.”

“Hmm. Don’t think I’m crazy, but I’m kinda glad. I’m glad I’m the one who gets to have you.”

“Oh, possessive, huh?” Derek asks with knowing smile.

“Maybe.” Stiles kisses his chin. “Protective would be a good word, too.” Another kiss, this time the tip of Derek’s nose. “You deserve good things, Derek, and I want that for you.”

Derek clears his throat uncomfortably but holds Stiles tighter. 

“Well then,” he asks. “What about you? Have you dated much?”

Stiles laughs then and buries his face in Derek’s (beautiful, gorgeous) pecs. He mumbles out, “I’ve been a bit of a slut, actually. All through college and here in New York too, though not as much because school takes up so much time.”

Derek pinches his hips and kisses Stiles’ head, says, “Mm, sounds hot. Tell me about it?”

Stiles looks up quickly and sees Derek isn’t joking. Derek cocks an eyebrow and rolls his hips up.

“Oh, that’s how it is?” Stiles laughs and then dives in to bite Derek’s nipple just to hear him yelp. “You wanna hear how I fucked my way through half of Stanford?”

Derek groans and hums and bucks his hips again. Laughing, Stiles pulls Derek’s robe off, grabs his thighs, and pushes them up against Derek’s chest. He sticks a finger inside, no warming up, says, “You’re still so loose. I could almost fuck you right now, huh?”

Derek groans, and then yelps. Stiles turns to see Meg is licking his foot. They have to relocate.

Once locked in the bedroom, away from the dog, Derek lays back on the bed with the lube and starts to open himself up. Like Stiles said, he’s still loose from last night, so it’s quick work to get himself ready again. Even so, he takes his time with it.

“Stiles, tell me about it. Tell me about all the people you did,” he says, writhing on two fingers. Stiles is watching, rapt. 

“Yeah, sure. I mean, first there was Hannah freshman year. I met her in my English Lit course. Then—” 

“No, details. What did she look like?” Derek grunts as he fingers himself. “What did you do with her?”

“Wow, you’re serious, huh? Okay. Well, it was at a frat party, or a hall party, I don’t remember. I was drunk but not fall-down drunk. So was she. We were making out, heavy, I uh, I was all over her breasts.” Stiles quiets for a minute to reminisce. Moves in close to Derek, then, puts one finger in with Derek’s two, just to hear the hurt little cry.

“More, Stiles.”

So Stiles tells. And he fucks Derek hard, then gentle, then hard again, until Derek is at the end of his rope and begs, begs for release. It’s so beautiful when he comes that Stiles almost passes out, and he hasn’t even come himself yet. Derek is just that pretty when he’s falling apart and begging and sweet.

~

It’s nightfall before they bother to order dinner. This time, Derek chooses their movie: Kiki’s Delivery Service from Studio Ghibli. Derek likes Miyazaki’s films because of the natural elements and the quiet moments throughout. “They don’t feel rushed,” he says. “Even when there’s something big looming, you can still take a minute and just breathe.”

Stiles kisses Derek’s neck, up into his hairline, perfectly contented.

~

Sunday morning is much the same as Saturday was: they take Meg for a short run and come home and shower together (yeah, Stiles already thinks of this place as home and he really hopes that won’t come back to bite him in the ass). They go to a nearby bagel shop for breakfast and halfway through his bagel, Stiles sighs deeply.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asks, reaching out to take his hand, and Stiles’ heart melts.

“I’ve got to go back to my apartment at some point and do my homework.”

“Oh.”

“I wish I could just stay with you all day again. I mean, you’ve probably had enough of me,” he chuckles, “but I don’t think I’m done with you yet.”

“Well,” Derek says, and Stiles can see him thinking it out as he speaks. “Don’t go then.”

“I have to, dude, I’ve got work to do for tomorrow.”

“No, I mean. Stay. We can go get your stuff and bring it back to my apartment.”

“Seriously? You wouldn’t get bored of me reading case briefs and stuff?”

Derek shakes his head. “No, ‘cause then I get to take you to bed. And wake up with you again.”

Stiles laughs. “And when am I gonna go back to my hovel to change, hm?”

“Never,” Derek responds, with absolutely no hesitation. “We’ll get _all_ your stuff and bring it to my place, Stiles. If you want to.”

Derek looks shy now but Stiles’ heart is racing and he’s thrilled. He was half hoping but he didn’t expect. “Absolutely. Definitely. Let’s go right now and pack up my shit. Get it done with.”

They finish their breakfast while walking to the subway, grinning like maniacs and holding hands.

~ 

They rent a U-Haul and drive it the short distance to Stiles’ crappy apartment. They crash inside at ten in the morning and they’re trying to be quiet in case anyone is still sleeping, but they fail. Stiles is giggling and chattering loudly. Derek is smirking and grabbing at Stiles, pushing him or pinching his ass or picking him up.

There’s a guy in the kitchen and Stiles goes over to him, pushing Derek off. “Morning, bro.”

“Oh, the absentee roommate,” he says, grinning slyly. “You haven’t texted me back since Friday night. Julieta was talking about calling the cops.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, Esmail. I’ve, uh, been at Derek’s the whole time.”

Esmail looks Derek over. Nods. Says, “Okay. He doesn’t look too murderous.”

Stiles barks out the most obnoxious laugh and Derek grimaces. “Oh, dude, you have no idea. We actually knew each other in Beacon Hills and my dad once investigated him for murder. It’s all good, we got him cleared, but we all thought he was definitely a serial killer.”

“Thank you, Stiles, for sharing that lovely memory,” Derek says, deadpan. Esmail raises an eyebrow and stirs his coffee.

Stiles leans in and kisses his cheek and Derek blushes and smiles, breaking his tough-guy affect. “Yeah, okay, you big softie. Go to my room and get packing. I'll be there in a minute.”

Derek nods and follows the scent back to what must be Stiles’ room. He can hear Stiles and Esmail talking, if he listens, so he lays on what must be Stiles’ bed and wraps up in the blankets, soaks in the smell, and listens to him talk.

“So uh, I'm actually gonna move in with Derek. I know that sucks for you guys so I'll keep paying rent until you find someone else, if you want.”

“You're _moving in with him_? What the actual fuck, Stiles?” the roommate asks.

“It’s fine! He doesn't live too far from campus, so it's actually not a big deal!”

“You just said your dad investigated him _for murder_ and you wanna move in after just two days? Do you even really know this guy?”

Stiles’ laugh is sardonic as he responds, “Yeah, man. I think I know him better than anyone in the world. We lost contact, but seeing him again...it was the best gift. I’m not letting him go this time.”

There’s a long time before Esmail speaks again. “Okay, dude. If you’re serious. But just keep in touch, okay? If it doesn’t work out, swear to me you’ll move back here.”

“I swear, bro.” Moments later, Derek hears Stiles’ footsteps coming down the hall towards him. When he walks in, he chuckles and says, “Get up, cuddle wolf. Let’s get packing.”

~

Derek seems to really like bringing Stiles’ things into his apartment. “You work, I’ll unpack,” he said when they returned, kissing Stiles and depositing him at the kitchen table. Later, Stiles discovers that all his clothes are put away, most of them mixed in together with Derek’s instead of separated. The living room has two new bookshelves, all full. On top of one, Derek has put Stiles’ mom’s pewter _channukiah_ and pewter Shabbat candlesticks and Stiles definitely tears up and hugs Derek for a long time, face buried in his shoulder. Derek doesn’t say anything, just rubs his back and holds him tight.

They order tacos for lunch and guiltily ignore Meg’s unflinching stare. (Derek eventually goes to the fridge and cuts up a few green beans for her, which she chomps on joyfully.) After, they sit on the couch, curled up and listening to Derek’s Blink-182 CD’s, and Stiles pulls out his phone. “I feel like I should tell my dad. I want to keep you to myself a little longer, is that weird? But I know my dad needs to know—so he knows to expect you for Thanksgiving,” he adds with a chuckle.

“Mm, I can’t wait.” Derek hugs him a little tighter and kisses his neck. “And it’s not weird to want to keep me for yourself. I love it.”

Stiles laughs happily as Derek kisses his neck over and over again while he hits the button to call his dad. When he picks up, Stiles is giggling and pushing Derek’s face away.

“Hey, dad,” he says, voice bright and fresh. 

“Hey, there. You sound happy. What’s going on?”

“I’m—stop, get off!—I, haha, I met someone, dad,” Stiles says, no preamble, batting Derek’s kissing lips and tickling fingers away from him all the while. 

“Wow. Uh, okay.”

“I mean, sort of met. I already—oh fuck it, it’s Derek. I found Derek Hale in New York and we’re dating and I just moved in with him.” Stiles seriously can’t keep the grin off his face.

The Sheriff stammers for a minute before his brain seems to come back online. “That’s a weird coincidence. Is he there with you?”

“Yeah, I’ll put you on speaker.”

“Hi, Derek,” his dad says.

“Hello, sir,” Derek replies, formal and respectful as always but he’s grinning too and it clear in his voice. A beat passes while Derek seems to make a decision. “I’m in love with your son and I want to marry him someday. Soon, maybe. Or after school. Whenever.”

“Fuck!” Stiles yells. “Derek, you can’t just propose like that! I wasn’t ready! And where’s my ring huh?”

Derek laughs. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll propose properly, but I’m not taking it back.”

Silence for another moment, then Stiles’ dad speaks. “I can’t believe it, you’re actually telling the truth. I’m happy for you boys. I expect you for Thanksgiving, Derek.”

“Wouldn’t miss it, sir.”

The Sheriff asks, “How long has this been going on?”

“Since, uh, Friday,” Stiles says, getting a little shy to admit how quick they moved.

His dad hums on the other end and just says, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Stiles repeats.

“Yep. Okay.” He sighs, continues, “I trust you, Stiles. And I trust Derek too. If this is what you want, then I’m happy. But please, no more murder and death and supernatural horrors. I can’t handle that.”

Stiles nods and curls closer to Derek. “No way, dad. I can promise you, I’m staying away from that.”

“Me too, sir,” Derek adds in, somber. He nuzzles his face into Stiles’ shoulder and breathes deep.

“Okay,” the Sheriff says. “Good. So—tell me the dad-appropriate version of this, huh?”

Stiles barks a laugh and starts in.

Later, he pulls up a group chat he hasn’t used in years and texts, _Derek and I are dating. Just wanted to spread the news._. The other pack members all text him back confusion and congratulations. Erica says, _Finally!_. Lydia texts him privately to get the newest deets and start talking wedding colors.

~

Monday is weird for Derek, going back to the bookshop while Stiles goes to class. He feels off-kilter. Being with Stiles all weekend was like the thrill of running through the woods, free and untethered and lighter than air, but being without him is too mundane; he’s weighted down and heavy. He drinks the tea Stiles brewed for him, sweetened with raw honey and a light happiness spell. He wonders how empty he would feel today if he were drinking plain tea. It’s a good spell, effective; Stiles’ spark is strong. As Derek brews coffee for the customers, he wonders if he should have Stiles spell the coffee now, instead of Bella.

He spends the morning puttering around, processing the new shipments, shelving books, and reading at the checkout counter: _The Last Unicorn_ , which Stiles mentioned as one of his favorites. After lunch, Kayin comes bursting in through the front door and marches right up to him. She slams her hands on the counter and smirks up at him. “Well? How’d it go?” she demands. “Stiles didn’t text me back all weekend!”

“It was good. He moved in with me.” Derek smiles and closes his book, leaving Kayin flabbergasted and silent. He moves to the coffee stand and makes her an espresso.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place about 3 months after they uhaul. Really just smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I'm so overwhelmed at how much y'all loved this, I just had to crank out some smut for you. Thank you for all the love!

“Hey, Derek,” Stiles says when he hears the door open. Meg jumps from the couch, where she was snuggling with him, and runs to the door to greet her dad.

“Hi, Stiles,” Derek says from the hallway. Moments later, he appears in the door to the living room. He’s holding the dog in his arms and she’s licking his neck. It’s gross, but extremely cute. Stiles grins like a dope.

“I love you.” Stiles stands and goes to them. Derek puts Meg down and hugs his boyfriend.

“How was class?” Derek asks. He kisses Stiles’ cheek. Meg whines at their feet.

“Eh, the usual horror and nonsense.” He shrugs, then says, “I got you a present, by the way.”

One eyebrow quirked, Derek asks, “Oh really? What?”

Stiles smirks and it’s dark and promising. “A new gag.”

“Mmm, yeah?”

“Yeah. A spider gag.”

Derek moans and leans in for a kiss, dirty and open-mouthed. 

“You wanna break it in? After dinner, maybe?”

“Before. Now. Right now.”

~

With the dog locked in the hallway and Derek tied up, Stiles stands by the foot of the bed and just looks. Drinks it in with his eyes. Derek’s on the bed, naked and bent over, kneeling and face in the sheets, forearms tied behind his back. Stiles wanders over and kneels behind him. He rubs his hands over Derek’s ass, hairy and gorgeous. Squeezes the muscle. “So fuckin’ pretty, Derek, look at you.”

Then he raises one hand and smacks down, hard. The right cheek goes pink and Derek moans, long and low. He hits the left cheek next. The hard muscle feels so good beneath his palm. He spanks again and again, alternating, until Derek’s ass is red and warm. 

He holds the cheeks apart, looks at Derek’s fluttering hole. “Oh, look here. Is this where you want me?” he asks, teasing and snarky. Derek grunts and wiggles his hips. Stiles’ tongue darts out and swipes up, down, up again. Circles the rim and then, just barely, pushes inside. When he pulls out, Derek whines and wiggles again. Stiles backs up and swats his ass again. “Be still for me, Derek. You’re being so good, just stay still for me.”

Derek grunts his acknowledgement and Stiles dives back in. He circles the rim again, pushes in properly this time, fucks him on his tongue for ages and ages, until Derek is shaking and whimpering. Finally, he pulls away and watches Derek shake and twitch. 

“You’re being so good, Derek. You still green?”

Derek grunts out a pitiful “uh-huh” and nods. 

Stiles moves Derek to the soft rug on the floor, ties him so he’s kneeling with a sharp backwards bend to his spine. His arms are tied behind his back, still, now secured to his ankles, and the metal of the spider gag shines against his lips and cheeks.

“You’re so gorgeous, Derek,” he says, low in his chest, almost inaudible. Derek whines in response. “You ready for me, hm?” Derek whines again, struggles to nod in his bound position but manages it, if only just.

Stiles runs a hand through his hair, soft and soothing, down to the back of his head. Holds him there and feeds his cock into Derek’s open mouth. The gag makes him drool and drool, so it’s wet and sloppy. He fucks in slowly, at first, letting Derek acclimate. Derek tongues at his cock as much as he can. He’s so completely restrained, he can’t do much else. 

Then, Stiles slams in hard, once, and Derek keens. Stiles grabs his face with both hands and fucks, hard and slow, into his throat. “Fuck, so good, Derek, so good for me,” he chants.

Derek keens and moans and drools.

Already, Stiles can feel his orgasm building, so he backs off. Derek gulps deep breaths of air, desperate. Stiles kisses his forehead and tells him, “You’re so lovely. So perfect, like this, just for me.”

Derek gives a tiny nod again. Grunts. Stiles’ cock throbs but he resists. He goes behind Derek, running a hand down his arm so Derek knows he’s still there, isn’t leaving, would never leave him. Pulls at the ropes and lets Derek’s back release. He takes the rope like a leash and pulls Derek back to the bed. Stiles lies back against the headboard and grips his cock.

“Now, come here and make me come. Just use that pretty mouth, there you go.”

Derek’s already leaning over and tonguing his balls, sucks one into his mouth. Stiles can feel the gag on one side and he hisses. It’s so good, _fuck_ , Derek is so good. “That’s it,” he pants, “there you go, Derek, yeah, keep going.”

Derek releases the nut and moves to the other, sucking and licking it too. Releases it, moves to lick up Stiles’ cock. Licks up and down and all over before ever putting his mouth on it. He goes all the way down right away, gagging on it but only a little. He bobs and licks, on and on, and finally Stiles can’t hold back anymore. He grips Derek’s hair, pulling him off, and pumps himself a few times. He comes all over Derek’s face. It drips down his cheeks and chin and shines so nicely. 

“You’re so good, Derek,” he says again, kissing him deeply. When he pulls back, he swipes up a bit of the come and holds his finger out, and Derek licks it up, so obedient. They clean his whole face that way, until all the come is gone down Derek’s throat. 

“You ready for your reward?” he asks now.

Derek whines and nods. He’s almost crying. So desperate for it. 

Stiles flips them so Derek’s laying down and Stiles is hovering over him. Wastes no time leaning over and sucking his cock to the root, playing with his balls, reaching back to rub his hole with a spit-slick finger. He holds Derek in his throat and squeezes his balls, just slightly, and Derek shoots off. Stiles swallows it.

~

Stiles is wiping Derek down with baby wipes when he comes to. He wasn’t passed out, just floating and pliable and completely out of it. So Stiles kissed him and started to clean them both up, wiping down the sweat. 

“Hey, Derek, you back with me?” he asks.

“Mm, yeah,” he breathes out. His voice is scratchy from the abuse and Stiles feels a wave of pride go through him.

Derek reaches out one arm for Stiles and Stiles climbs back on the bed, kisses his forehead and cheek and nose and lips. “You were amazing, Derek. Thank you.”

“Love you,” he mumbles, curling up in Stiles’ arms. 

“Love you too.” They lay there a little longer, before Stiles gets up and says, “I’ll go make dinner. You stay here. I’ll get you when it’s ready, okay?”

Derek nods. “Okay.”

Twenty minutes later, Stiles returns with Meg in tow and rubs a hand over Derek’s bare chest. Meg licks at the hand hanging off the mattress. “C’mon, time to eat. I made fettucini.”

Derek looks up at him with stars in his eyes. Sits ups and holds out his clasped hand. Stiles reaches out and Derek puts a shining gold ring in his palm. 

“Stiles,” he says, “will you marry me?”

Stiles tackles him and Meg barks, jealous of their fun.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment and let me know what you think! <3


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